The Grim
by Adventure-Seeking-Juliet
Summary: Sirius Black was an innocent man, but even innocents can be guilty. This was written for Round Four of the QLFC.


**The Grim**

Written by: Adventure-Seeking-Juliet

A/N This was written for the QLFC where I play Second Beater for the Kenmare Kestrals. Sirius Black was an innocent man, but even innocents can be guilty. I was given the prompts: _Suspense_, _Black, "Therapy" by All Time Low, _and the following quote:

_"I hear the world is ending soon. When we go, and we are all going to go, I will be part of it." – Neil Hilborn, This Is The End_

Warnings: This contains colorful swear words and allusions to depression and suicide. Also, I'm sorry for any mistakes, this was a bit rushed.

* * *

"_When I woke up alone I had everything:_

_A handful of moments I wished I could change_

_And a tongue like a nightmare that cut like a blade."_

_All Time Low, Therapy_

* * *

"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," Sirius mumbled to himself. He'd repeated the phrase randomly throughout the day, hoping that if he said it enough, he'd feel like a Gryffindor again.

But he didn't. He was still shivering. The first night in Azkaban had felt like something out of a nightmare. At times during the night he would wake up expecting to see James at his cell, attempting to break him out, but of course, James wasn't there. James was dead.

"I didn't do it," Sirius repeated, his teeth chattering through his words, "James would know. He would believe me."

"But he can't," Sirius argued, his doubts taking on a persona of their own, "Because he's dead."

Sirius Black did _not_ cry. He was a man of action…but that night, he sobbed.

* * *

"_I can't give up that quick_

_My life is a candle and a wick_

_You can put it out but you can't break it down_

_In the end, we are waiting to be lit."_

_Laura Marling, Hope in the Air_

* * *

Weeks crawled like years, but Sirius Black was a fighter.

The dementors loomed over him, a constant presence that reminded him of all the things he tried to forget, but somehow, talking to himself helped remind him of what he had left.

"I'm innocent, I didn't, _would never_, kill them," Sirius screamed, raising his fists to the sky, wishing the dementors would fight back, "You hear me?! You've got the wrong man!"

His voice became hoarse and his words became growls, and by the end of the night, all he could do was whisper, in a ghostly voice that didn't quite belong to him, "_I'm the Grim_."

* * *

"_But do not ask the price I paid,_

_I must live with my quiet rage,_

_Tame the ghosts in my head,_

_That run wild and wish me dead."_

_Mumford & Sons, Lover's Eyes_

* * *

"_I hate you_," the venom in his voice was unrecognizable, "I trusted you! I stood up for you…we _all _did. What kind of rat fucks his friends over? When I get out of here, and I will, I will _murder you. Peter Pettigrew. _You'll squeal like the scum you are. If I am to rot like a murderer, then a murderer I will become."

His rage wasn't the loud, angry monster it had been the year before. Now it was bitter. Bitter and quiet. Deadly.

A laugh tore from his throat, "I should have guessed. Your animagus is a rat, Peter, how could any of us have ever been so fooled?"

He was quiet for a moment, considering.

"_Fuck you, Peter_."

Hot, bitter tears slid down his face. He pounded his fists against his brick cage, his teeth clenched, and his eyes yellowed.

"I'm a killer because of _you. _I might not have raised a hand to the Potters that night, but _I'm_ the reason they're dead. I carry as much blame as you."

His voice cracked, "How do you _live_ with yourself, Peter?"

Sirius rubbed his hands. His knuckles were cut, bleeding, but without a wand, he'd never be able to heal himself. In a way, he was glad. He deserved the pain.

"Remus_? Remus Lupin_? How could I ever think it was Remus? He's the only one left. The last, _true_ marauder. I hope you feel this guilt, Peter. I hope it crushes you every night. I-I," Sirius hiccupped, "I hope you feel like this. I hope you're like me. I don't recognize myself, Peter. And it's all because of you."

The night was rainy, and, for some reason, the dementors hovered close to his cell, devouring what soul he had left.

"Who's Sirius Black?"

His eyes glazed over, and, for the longest time, Sirius Black couldn't remember who he was, but the sun dawned early the next morning, and, somehow, the deranged murderer managed to say, in a choked whisper, "I'm sorry, Remus. _I'm so sorry_."

Once again, he was awake. He was Sirius Black, but suddenly, Sirius Black wasn't the person he'd always been.

"I'm the _Grim_."

* * *

_But where are you now?_

_Where are you now?_

_Do you ever think of me_

_In the quiet, in the crowd?" _

_Mumford & Sons, Where are you now?_

* * *

Years seemed to past, but the Grim had no idea if time was actually passing. His prison was his mind. Time didn't matter when he was trapped there.

His hair was long past his shoulders now. It was matted and stringy—he knew he looked nothing like care-free, arrogant Sirius Black now.

His thoughts strayed often. Sometimes, he talked to James. He apologized. He promised.

Peter was long forgotten now. The Grim felt only a black rage when he thought of Peter Pettigrew.

Surprisingly, it was Remus Lupin who occupied his thoughts the most.

"I wonder if you'd recognize me," Sirius said, his voice calm, "You'd say, 'Sirius, you've let yourself go, old friend.' And I'd say, 'I still look a right side better than you, mate.'"

He laughed. When he talked to Remus, he was almost Sirius again. He could remember the truth.

"I didn't mean to, Remus," He swallowed thickly, "I know you loved them, too. I'm so sorry."

Sometimes, Sirius thought Remus would forgive him, but other times, the Remus in his head only had room for hatred.

* * *

"_Desperado, oh, you ain't getting no younger _

_Your pain and your hunger, they're driving you home _

_And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talking_

_Your prison is walking through this world all alone."_

_The Eagles, Desperado_

* * *

The need to end it all was the worst. Sirius Black came to hate the Grim, but the Grim hated Sirius Black worst of all.

"I tried to do the right thing, I thought I was helping them," Sirius would say, quietly. He was subdued. His anger was a live thing, a bitter monster that turned on him when it had no one else left to hate.

"You turned your back on your friends, you trusted _the rat_ above Remus…and you know why." The Grim hummed with satisfaction when Sirius struggled to fight back.

"I-I just thought Remus was turning against us.."

"_Why_?" The Grim demanded, "Admit it. _Admit it_. You're a hypocrite, Sirius Black."

"Because," Sirius spat back, defiant, "He's a werewolf. I thought he was helping Greyback."

"You admit it, then. He wasn't a pure-blood, so you blamed _him_. You're pathetic. You're just like the rest of your family, blinded by hatred and prejudice."

"_NO,_" Sirius growled, "I made a mistake. I can do better. I am _not_ my family."

The Grim cackled, " No, you're worse. You pretend to be good, but on the inside you're a Black."

"_Shut the fuck up_," Sirius muttered.

"You stupid wizard, you can't run from what you are."

Sirius only nodded, wondering all the while why the Grim sounded so much like his mother. She'd always told him those things.

It was at that moment that Sirius decided to fight. Really fight.

"You're not real, you know," He said, "I'll get out of here…and you'll be gone."

"I'll always be a part of you," The Grim fought back, "You can't lose me. I'm _you_."

Sirius only shook his head," No. You're _them_. My parents, my family, all of the people who never thought I'd be the wizard I was, Peter, the media, all of them. And _you won't win_."

The Grim was fading now, "You know who you are. You're not good. You'll never be like James. Remember? Snape? _You would have had him killed."_

"You're right. I'll never be completely good, but no one is," Sirius's voice was steely, "_And _you're wrong. I'm not Black. I'm gray. That's what it means to be human…something you'll _never _understand."

The Grim was gone then. Sirius Black knew what had to come next. He was the only one who knew the truth; he was the only one who could save Harry Potter.

A hero is made by a choice…and, in the end, Sirius Black was a hero—

"Gryffindor," he said, his now-yellowed teeth barred in a smile, "Where dwell the brave at heart."

* * *

A/N In case it wasn't obvious, the Grim represents depression, and the reason why I wanted to personify it is because J. used the dementors as a representation of her own depression. Many, many people suffer from depression, and it's a serious issue. I've dealt with it myself, and if any of you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here to help. I hope you enjoyed the story.


End file.
